


Mine.

by writingboom



Series: Whose are you? [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cheating, Did I mention angst, Dirty Talk, Hate Sex, Like, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Really Rough Sex, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation, and so much, cause, i wish i wasnt this way, idk what you expect from me tbh, im sorry, it hurts, really - Freeform, seriously, this is painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingboom/pseuds/writingboom
Summary: He knows.
Relationships: Background, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: Whose are you? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900099
Comments: 21
Kudos: 402





	Mine.

He knows it’s wrong. 

Tobio tugs his hair back sharply, slamming his head against the door that he’s trapped against, making Shoyo hiss through his teeth. He writhes against the body pinning him. Claws at clothing. 

He knows it’s wrong. 

Teeth dig into the skin of his neck, possessive, and even though Shoyo can feel his cock throb at the action the rage wins out, and he digs his nails too harshly into muscle. 

“Don’t.” 

Tobio huffs into the skin of his neck, but stops all the same. Instead he lifts his head up, and crushes their lips together. 

Shoyo feels nauseous. He feels disgusted, he feels devastated because of what he’s doing. Atsumu  _ loves him _ . Shoyo loves  _ Atsumu.  _

He just fucking  _ told  _ him that nothing was going to happen with Tobio. 

But. 

“I forgot how sweet you taste,” Tobio rasps into his open mouth. 

Heat lances down Shoyo’s body, lightning in his fingertips. He feels sick, he hates himself. He hates his body for moaning, for rolling up into the strong, familiar body against him. A body he’d forgotten, one he hasn’t touched or seen since third year in high school. 

Kageyama Tobio broke his heart, all that time ago. Shoyo always thought they had something monumental, ever since the first time they spoke something in him knew. When they became partners, then friends, then lovers, it was all natural. 

But it broke naturally, too. 

Tobio picks him up by the backs of his thighs, only breaking their kiss for the two seconds it takes to do so. And Shoyo lets him turn and carry him into the bedroom.

He knows it’s wrong.

It’s familiar, and so, so different. Tobio is bigger now. His muscles are more defined. Shoyo is taller too, but not tall enough. Tobio still holds him like he weighs nothing. 

Shoyo kisses and bites into the mouth of a man that ruined him. He feels his heart pound angrily, skin tingling as Tobio breaks from him and tosses him onto the mattress so carelessly he  _ bounces.  _

“OI-“

He’s so angry, he’s so hurt, he’s so  _ hard. _ Tobio stands above him, still at the foot at the bed, towering and radiating something similar to the rivalry he radiates from the other side of the volleyball net. Shoyo wants to yell, he wants to punch him in the face. He almost does. 

But Tobio looks so…  _ angry.  _ It pins Shoyo in place and takes the words right out of his throat. 

The blue of Tobio’s eyes have always been dark. This though, this deep, shining navy, is new. It’s ache and jealousy and rage. And Shoyo hates it, because he knows exactly what that look is for. 

It’s because Shoyo has a boyfriend. He has a  _ boyfriend.  _

“Fuck you,” Shoyo growls. He’s breathless. 

Tobio’s face is contorted, a line in the middle of his furrowed brows, but he cocks his head to the side and slowly,  _ slowly _ , crawls over Shoyo’s body. Like a cat catching it’s prey. 

Shoyo’s breath hitches. He hates this. Tobio’s looking at him like he  _ dares  _ Shoyo to scoot away from him. Like he  _ dares  _ him to leave. To go back. And he looks at Shoyo like he knows he won’t do  _ any _ of it. 

Bile rises in his throat. 

“Fuck  _ me _ ?” Tobio challenges.

Shoyo gulps. He can’t seem to break eye contact. He feels like a goddamn 17 year old again. Terrified and weak under such an intense gaze. Tobio is the biggest dork he’s ever known, but the way he moves when he cares about things is calculated and smooth. It was back then, and it is now. 

Shoyo gasps when heavy hips press his pelvis into the bed. When a muscular thigh slides between his spread legs to press  _ deliciously  _ against his cock. 

And Tobio slithers into the crook of his neck, and chuckles. He’s evil. Shoyo hates him. 

“You make me  _ sick,”  _ he grits out. 

“Do I,” Tobio purrs, all knowing. “Does it make you sick, thinking about how close you are to being split open on my cock again?” 

Shoyo trembles, muscles jumping, fisting his hands in the loose shirt on Tobio’s shoulders, just  _ barely  _ keeping in a moan as the words drip over him like molasses. 

His throat is dry. He wants to say yes, that yes, it makes him fucking sick _.  _ But he can’t. He can’t even think past the need coursing through him. Shoyo hasn’t felt this out of control, this hot and angsty and  _ desperate  _ in three and a half years. 

“ _ Answer me.”  _ Tobio presses his thigh harder against him, and grips the back of his hair again, tugging until Shoyo’s mouth drops open in pain. 

“I hate you,” his voice is dark and rough, like sandpaper. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

“You hate  _ yourself _ ,” Tobio hisses directly into his ear. 

Yeah. He really does. 

They’re kissing again, then. Clothes are ripped. Shoyo’s mind is spinning and his fingertips are numb. His heart pounds and he feels acid bile in the back of his throat. When Tobio touches him, touches the skin of his waist, and his chest, when he presses his fingertips down hard enough to bruise, Shoyo feels like he’s floating. 

It’s so different. When Tobio breaks from his mouth only to flip him over and shove his face in the sheets, Shoyo shivers. Atsumu treats him like he needs to be treasured. This is hatred.  _ This  _ makes him feel like the piece of shit he actually is. 

Tobio’s hand leaves his hair and he drags a single fingertip down his spine. Then two hands elegantly wrap around his torso, fingers so long they almost touch, and then he’s being  _ squeezed.  _

Shoyo whimpers. 

“Still small,” Tobio tsks. 

“Shut up, Kageyama,” Shoyo’s legs kick against the sheets. His heartbeat is in his ears. 

The hands let him go for a second, but one of them is quick to land in the middle of his back and pin him. He squirms, and his gut stirs because he  _ loves it.  _

“Kageyama? What happened to Tobio?” 

“Y-you don’t fucking get to have that anymore,” Shoyo breathes. 

Tobio doesn’t say anything to that. He just opens a drawer at the head of the bed and Shoyo tries to breathe into the sheets despite being buried in fabric. 

There’s a lid popping open and Shoyo gets a flash of memory. Of Atsumu fumbling with the lube, fingers shaking so hard that it spills all over Shoyo’s stomach.

Two fingers force their way inside of him, and Shoyo’s head lifts automatically to moan into the dark room. 

He knows it’s  _ wrong. _

“Still tight,” Tobio audibly smirks. 

It hurts. He hasn’t been treated this roughly in a long, long time. It makes him want to cry, makes him want to scream, because he’s been aching for it and didn’t even know. 

“Shut  _ up  _ Kageyama.” 

And that makes the asshole chuckle. Shoyo wants to throw up, he hates it so much, it’s such a horrifying sound now, that chuckle. It sounds like home. And he hates it. 

Tobio fucks him with his fingers. Forces gasps and moans from Shoyo’s lips like it’s natural. He dips down and kisses from the base of his spine up to his neck. 

He shoves a third finger in the same instant he bites down on skin. 

And that hurts too. Shoyo moans despite himself, tries to blame it on pain but knows it’s more than that. His cock leaks onto the sheets where it’s trapped between his stomach. 

Tobio starts sucking, and Shoyo jolts back into his body. 

“No  _ marks,”  _ he hisses, enraged and seasick. He doesn’t want marks on him when he goes back to Atsumu and ruins his relationship. It’s a level of low he doesn’t want to get to. 

“Why not,” Tobio purrs, faking innocence. He’s breathless. Curls his fingers until Shoyo’s hips jump. 

“You know why.” 

“If it’s because of him, then why doesn’t he leave any-“

Shoyo thrashes and Tobio shifts to pin him again, “Quit  _ talking  _ about him.” 

Tobio sighs. 

“No. Marks,” Shoyo says, dead serious and low. 

“Fine.” 

Shoyo sighs, furrowing his brow into the sheets, purposefully clenching around Tobio’s fingers for no reason other than spite. It makes them move faster, and it burns, like usual, but it’s the way they  _ curl _ that makes Shoyo feel restless. 

It shouldn’t be as different as it is. You wouldn’t think that the fingers of two different people could feel so polar opposite. Atsumu is slow and thorough and careful. It feels like he’s somehow being caressed most of the time. 

This is like being jabbed. Tobio curls and pushes and drags, pushes against his prostate so easily and so often Shoyo sort of wonders if he can  _ see  _ it. 

Shoyo doesn’t realize he’s squirming as much as he is until Tobio grabs both of his wrists in one hand and pushes them hard into the small of his own back. 

It’s uncomfortable. Despite being beyond breathless Shoyo growls his annoyance and shoots a sharp, angry eye back over his shoulder. Tobio’s eyes are lidded and zeroed in on his own fingers. 

“Let me fucking go.”

Tobio doesn’t even twitch. He moves his fingers faster, skilled setter’s fingers wiggling and spreading and creating space inside him. He ignores Shoyo completely. 

“ _ KAGEYAMA-“ _

“You like being held down though.” Tobio’s voice is even and unmotivated. “That’s why you squirm so much right? Why you move and push and pull? So someone will pin you?” 

And Shoyo hates how he’s right. He hates how he’s just… so  _ right  _ about everything, how he always has been, how he knows Shoyo better than anyone, even still.. 

He doesn’t want the tears to join in on the rage he feels, but they do. Just barely gathering in the corners of his squeezed eyes. 

“Don’t act like you k- _ know  _ everything.. I hate you, I hate you, you pompous, shitty, selfish  _ asshole.. _ you don’t know me anymore, you don’t know-“

He goes on and on, he doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop  _ talking.  _ Not even when Tobio stops and pulls out of him, even as he feels cold liquid replace warm fingers, even as Tobio shifts and straddles the backs of his thighs. 

“You’re cursing a lot more than you used to,” Tobio says. 

Shoyo thrashes against his grip. Ignores how his cock aches when it does nothing. 

“So what,” he wheezes. His lungs are being crushed by Tobio’s weight but he doesn’t hate it. “It’s your-“ 

His words die with the sharp gasp, the deep, desperate intake of air he makes as Tobio splits him open. 

It’s clear he only stretched him with two fingers. He’s too big. It  _ hurts.  _ He shakes his head desperately, panting and kicking his feet and pretending he isn’t whimpering. He used to hate how loud he was in bed. Atsumu made him love it. He’s starting to hate it again. 

“S-stop- wait Kageyama-“ 

“Hn-“ 

“Stop,” Shoyo gasps, pain lancing up his spine as Tobio slides in deeper and deeper. “It h-hurts Kageyama- you-“

“Too bad,” Tobio gasps behind him, finally breathless. “Has it been  _ that _ long since someone just made you take it?” 

Shoyo’s heart stutters in his chest, and he whines low in his throat. Stupid Tobio. Stupid.  _ Stupid.  _

A mouth dips down, all of Tobio’s new mass bearing down on him, to whisper and pant in his ear. Shoyo feels incredibly uncomfortably full, it hurts, it’s too deep. 

“You forget how easy you are to read. I know all your tricks. All your weaknesses. A person can’t change  _ that  _ much in 3 years.” 

“I hate you, Kageyama.” 

“Clearly.” 

He starts drawing out to push back in, and Shoyo furrows his brow. “It  _ hurts.”  _

“Then tap me.” 

Shoyo bites his cheek. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it. He won’t. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to. 

“You’re the worst,” he wheezes, moaning in pain and pleasure as Tobio drives back into him, just as deep. It’s a deep, painful ache. 

“Mhm.” 

“You are,” Shoyo gasps. “You’re the worst when we’re on the court, youre so sly and unnecessarily mean-  _ hah! _ Y-you trick me into coming here, you turn m- _ e _ into mush, you—ah _! _ “

He shoves his forehead into the sheets as pleasure bolts up his body. The pain is dull now, with Tobio fucking into him at a steady pace, and as he talks his head spins. 

Atsumu flashes in his mind. His smirk and the way his hips move, just like this, steady and supportive. 

“Harder,” Shoyo orders. His voice is low and scratchy. 

Tobio goes harder. It doesn’t take the memories away. Shoyo feels sick again. He doesn’t want to think of Atsumu. He doesn’t want to think of him while fucking someone else. 

“ _ Harder _ , idiot. You always talk a lot of g-game, and don’t follow through.  _ Hn-  _ this is pretty weak, pretty pathetic, for a pro volleyball-“

And then a hand is covering his mouth, and wrenching his head back with it until his body aches. His hands are still pinned together against his back. It hurts. His eyes are wide and unseeing at the white wall in front of him. He makes a sound against Tobio’s hand.

All he can see is the dominating shadow of Tobio hunching over him against the white wall. His eyes flutter and he feels dizzy.

“You talk too much, even now. Why are you here Shoyo? If you wanted to be fucked like a whore, why didn’t you ask your perfect setter boyfriend to do it?” 

Tobio waits for an answer, but all Shoyo can do is moan, muffled, body jolting and jolting as he’s fucked. Shut up. Shut up shut up shut  _ up. _

“It’s because you know that no one will ever be able to make you feel like I’m making you feel right now,” its venomous, those words along the shell of his ear. 

Shoyo squeezes his eyes shut and sags, though it’s not like anything shifts with how taut Tobio has his body. His neck is bent back by the hand over his mouth, his hands are still pinned far too harshly, making his back arch obscenely as Tobio fucks into him. 

He feels helpless. He thought he’d gotten stronger, but Tobio makes him weak. 

Shoyo honestly, truly gives up.

“You say you love him, Shoyo, but I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t be here if you did,” Tobio purrs, picking up pace, hard and fast, making Shoyo moan and whine and squeak. “You wouldn’t be this hard. You wouldn’t moan like… this… would you.” 

A particularly perfect angle, right as he speaks, makes Shoyo shout. Tobio smirks against the shell of his ear. Shoyo feels  _ sick.  _

He sort of misses when Tobio was stupid with sex. When they were learning  _ together _ , when his face would get red and Shoyo would have to prompt him and challenge him if he wanted to get anything going. When he was stupid, and helpless, and inexperienced. When he couldn’t  _ do  _ whatever he wanted, cause they were young and in love. 

“You've missed my cock, haven’t you?”

Shoyo shakes his head. 

Tobio chuckles. “If you have to lie to make yourself feel better, then that’s fine. But I know you have.” 

Tobio tightens his grip around Shoyo’s mouth, but it’s not like doing so stops the noises from coming out when he starts hitting his prostate over and over. 

And there’s little moans in Shoyo’s ear now too, he can feel his ass getting wetter as Tobio leaks inside him. It’s just the dirty, wet slapping of their hips, and Shoyo’s muffled whimpers, and Tobio’s heavy breathing.

“D-does he fuck your cunt like this, Shoyo,” Tobio rasps, going harder. “Does he know how to hit you  _ here?”  _

Shoyo feels a tear roll down his cheek and he sobs around a moan. His brain is mush. No, he wants to say. No, he doesn’t. 

And then the hand leaves his mouth. Shoyo moans, pathetic and cracked and strained, and his entire upper body collapses into the mattress. It feels good to moan. It somehow makes him harder. He can feel heat rising in his gut. 

“Say my name, slut.” 

“ _ No _ .” 

Shoyo’s eyes shoot wide when Tobio wraps that hand around his throat. “Say my name or you don’t get to make any noise at all.” 

His brows draw up in desperation. He doesn’t want to. He  _ doesn’t want to.  _

“K-Kageyama,” he moans. It feels familiar on his tongue, reminiscent of those few hookups he had in Brazil, trying not to moan Tobio’s name.

The hand tightens, making the blood rush to his head, making his noises strained and airy. He stares, watery eyed, unseeing at the blue sheets of Tobio’s bed. He can feel sharp eyes on his face. He wants more. 

“Fuck,  _ Tobio…” _

Crap, he’s close, he’s really, really close… 

“Again,” Tobio growls. Fucks him faster, more shallow. Let’s Shoyo rut his own cock against the sheets. 

“T-tobio,” Shoyo whimpers, eyes squeezed shut again. 

The hand releases his throat and he gasps even though he could still breathe just fine. His wrists tug and ache, they feel bruised, his arms feel sore with the awful angle, and he feels  _ amazing.  _

He fucks down against the mattress. Moans openly, loudly, clenches around Tobio’s cock and fucks back up onto it as he moves his hips. 

His moans weaken. His heart aches. His cock is throbbing. 

“Tobio, Tobio,” he whimpers. Is he crying now? “M sorry, m sorry, Tobio Tobio T- _ obio _ \- AHH!” 

And then he’s cumming. 

He trembles. And trembles. And sobs and moans, and jerks, and gasps against the sheets. His wrists are released and they fall uselessly at his sides. He doesn’t know why he apologized. Maybe it was to himself. 

“H-holy shit,” Tobio gasps behind him, hips stuttering. “T-that’s it..” 

“ _ Hahh _ ..”

He fucks into Shoyo a few more times, quick and shallow, and then he’s moaning and pulling out and hot cum is painting Shoyo’s back and ass. 

He breathes. His head hurts, his gut hurts. His back is sore, his neck is sore, his arms are sore. 

But also, he hasn’t felt quite this boneless in years. 

Tobio sighs heavily as he comes down. He pulls out and it makes Shoyo jump, but he doesn’t move to lay down after. He hovers over him like the disgusting predator he is. 

Shoyo grimaces at the jizz now drying on his skin. Tobio always used to want to bust inside him. He had very little restraint. It’s strange that he didn’t this time.

“Not inside?” He breathes.

“I wanted to see it all over you.” 

“You’re not marking your damn territory,” Shoyo snaps, rage coming back with each passing moment. Tobio slides off him and Shoyo starts to roll onto his side 

“Aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not.” 

Shoyo grimaces, face drawn down in harsher lines than it has been in a long time. It’s dead silent. 

Fuck. He really did that.

He ruined everything. 

“You okay,” Tobio asks, voice wavering and cautious. 

“ _ No _ ,” Shoyo snaps. “No I’m not okay.” 

Tobio doesn’t lay next to him this time. He sits with his legs crossed. Shoyo feels disgusting. He feels  _ disgusting.  _ He feels violated, he hates it, he hates it because he also feels  _ amazing. _

“Look, Shoyo it’s-“

“Zip it. I don’t care what you have to say,” Shoyo snaps. He wants to sit up and walk out of this stupid apartment but he honestly isn’t sure he has the strength to move yet. 

“Nothing you say is going to help me. It isn’t going to make what happened okay, so  _ can it, _ Kageyama.”

Tobio sighs. “Kageyama again?” 

Shoyo opens his eyes. 

“You think you have  _ any  _ right? Any at all?” 

He sits up fully, and finally,  _ finally  _ Tobio starts looking a little fearful. 

“You broke my heart in high school Kageyama. We had something real and you-“

“We still do-“

“No we  _ don’t.”  _ His voice cracks. 

He hates this, his heart is aching so much. He doesn't believe himself when he says it and he knows Tobio doesn't either. The hurt is enough to get him to sit up properly though, enough to swing his legs off the side of the bed even though it aches. He presses his palms to his eyes hard enough he can see stars. 

“This isn’t fair. You know how worried he was when I left today? He was scared that this would happen.”

“W-were you scared this would happen?” Tobio’s voice is quiet.  _ Did you want this to happen,  _ is what he means. 

Shoyo feels his chest cave in. 

“Don’t make me answer that,” he mutters under his breath. 

His head is too loud. The room is heavy and painful, he can feel Tobio behind him like a ghost. He doesn’t push. 

“I know you don't love him.”

Ah. Spoke too soon. 

“I do fucking love him. He makes me feel treasured, Kageyama. He’s kind and smart and talented and he’s better to me than you ever were,” Shoyo hisses without turning around. 

“But you’re here, with me-”

“God will you just shut up?” 

Tobio falls quiet. Shoyo feels nauseous again. His hands feel tingly and he hates that there’s still cum on his back and he hates that he doesn’t want to clean it off yet. He can’t seem to sort through any of his thoughts. All he knows is that he really, really hates himself. More than he did in middle school, more than he did in high school when he couldn’t compare himself to his friends. 

He’s pathetic. 

“Shoyo,” Tobio grabs his elbow to try and turn him but Shoyo doesn’t let him. 

“I still love-”

“ _ DONT _ .”

“I do,” Tobio forces him to turn, pulls him but Shoyo refuses to look at him. Its not fair it’s not fair it’s not  _ fair.  _

“Y-you are mine, and I’m yours.” 

Shoyo starts crying, then. 

That was how Tobio confessed. It’s what they said to eachother all the time. It’s something that always hits Shoyo right in the soul, right where it hurts the most. It hurts because it somehow just feels so  _ true.  _

“That’s not fair,” he whimpers. He curls in on himself and Tobio lets him. 

“I’m.. ah,” Tobio whispers. “I know I’m not helping. I’m bad at this type of shit. But that’s how I f-feel and... I’ve waited 3 years, I can wait some more.” 

“I really hate you.” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“What am I supposed to do with that?” 

“Whatever you need to.” 

Shoyo angrily wipes the tears from his face. “Who are you? You used to be my rival.” 

“I’m still your rival,” Tobio snorts. “This is happening cause we played each other and I got jealous that you’ve become so good.” 

Shoyo wants to laugh at that. He probably will later. But as it is he feels empty and overwhelmed. He just slumps over himself more. If he bends much more his face will be in Tobio’s lap. 

They sit in silence for a while. Shoyo doesn’t know if he should be relieved or betrayed or terrified. Maybe all three. 

“I really don’t know what to do now.” 

“Want me to give you some tosses?” 

And he hates it, but he knows there’s no way he could say no.

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike For A While, I don't think I'm going to fix this one. 
> 
> Sorry everyone. They are a painful disaster and you can't change my mind


End file.
